


this feeling called home (is it here or is it you)

by inkfish



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, The softest boys, raise your hand if you have ever been victimized by a dog fart while switching dog foods, they have a dog bc of course they do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkfish/pseuds/inkfish
Summary: Long roadie finally finished, Jack returned home to the best part of his life.





	this feeling called home (is it here or is it you)

**Author's Note:**

> did someone ask for an over-dramatic over-worked love story? no? here it is anyway. totally unbetaed so any faults are my own.
> 
> The boys and their world belong to the amazing Ngozi.

Bits was already in bed when Jack returned from a long roadie. He closed the door quietly behind him, dropping his bag of clothes onto the floor next to the entryway table Bits had said they needed. Which, Jack figured, they did, because Bits was forever losing his keys in the apartment if he didn’t drop them into the bowl sitting on the end of the table. The constant rotation of fresh flowers and the framed pictures definitely made their home a home, not just the place they stored all their shit.

Jack gently laid his keys in the metal bowl and winced a bit when his big car key clanked noisily. The apartment was dark save the strings of fairy lights across the mantle and above the kitchen cabinets. They offered just enough light to show the edges of the kitchen bar and the couch which was his pathway to the bedroom. The other leather living room furniture in the open space glowed softly. 

Jack ran his hand along the back of the couch as he passed it, remembering how proud Bitty was when he bought the set with his first cookbook advance. In his entire life Jack had never been prouder of someone. Bits had worked so hard for years on the carefully crafted recipes. His face was so red as he tried to hold back the tears. Jack pressed a kiss to his overheated forehead and held him close. 

On his other side was the kitchen, filled with every imaginable baking tool. In the drawer to the right of the oven was a stack of hand-crocheted pot holders from MooMaw. One in every color of the rainbow. And another one that was a violent shade of pink that apparently was Bitty’s favorite color as a child. 

On the wall leading to the bedrooms were a series of pictures Jack had taken over the years. First, a shot from Jack’s senior year of college. Bitty stood at the sink, hair backlight from the rising sun in the window behind him. Next was Bitty and his parents on Bitty’s graduation day. Everyone had red eyes and Bits had somehow managed to sneak in two dozen chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies for his family. Jack suspected that there were really closer to four dozen made, but Bitty shared them with his classmates as they waited their turn to be called. The third picture showed Bitty struggling to hold onto a small, wiggly puppy as it licked his face. Butterscotch would eventually grow into Jack’s second favorite running partner, but the first year and a half had been a struggle. Butters was a rescue from a case of neglect and spent weeks terrified of his new owners. If Jack could guess, the pup was exactly where he wasn’t supposed to be- in bed with Bitty. He always seemed to know when Jack was out of town for long and would sneak under the covers after Bitty fell asleep.

The last picture was his favorite. Admittedly, it was a recreation of an important moment and not the actual thing, but Bitty’s open and earnest expression was exactly the same both times. The camera angled down at him as he knelt in front of Jack, a small black velvet box open in his hands. The silver and diamond band glinting in the setting sun was now on his finger. There was a terrible tan line from it now and whenever he had to take it off he couldn’t shake the feeling of being incomplete. 

The rings were just a symbol. He knew that, logically, because the marriage license was the official piece. Still, Jack twisted his ring around his finger. The Bitty in the picture still looked nervous as to Jack’s answer, as if he hadn’t already heard it an hour before. As if they hadn’t had the marriage conversation several times. As if Jack was anything but completely and utterly hopeless for Bits. 

Jack twisted the ring one more time before letting his hands drop. Not hopeless, he amended to himself. That’s close to what he had been before Bitty, before Samwell, before coaching, and before his overdose. Now it felt like he had nearly too much hope living inside his heart. Hope that Butters would stop peeing on the balcony after the one time they let him do it in the snowstorm. Hope that the Falcs would win the game against the Aces next week just so he could make Kenny take him to the disgustingly expensive steakhouse in town. Hope that Maman and Papa would be able to go to Georgia for New Years with the in-laws. 

Hope that, for every day of his life, Jack could wake up feeling like there was no way life could possibly get any better, but then it does. Not that his life was perfect – the ache in his shoulder and the lingering smell of burnt sugar proved that not everything in life was going right – but him and Bitty? They were never going to be anything but good. The trust and respect in their relationship were a solid foundation on which they built a house all by themselves. Earthquakes could come. Tornadoes could threaten. Hurricanes could linger. None of them would matter. 

Because this? What he had with Bitty? 

There was the love Jack had for hockey and the love he had for his friends. He loved his parents more than either of those and above all of it was the brightest star Jack had ever wished on. 

“Sweetheart?” Bitty appeared at the doorway, his hair mussed. He rubbed at one eye with the palm of his hand, mid-yawn. He wore one of Jack’s old Samwell t-shirts that had more than a few holes in it. “What is it?”

Jack had to swallow against the rush of love surging through him. He reached out and touched Bitty’s sleep-soft skin. “Hey bud,” he whispered. “Sorry if I woke you.”  
Bitty relaxed into Jack’s hand. “You didn’t. Butters farted so bad it woke me up.”

The laugh erupted from Jack loudly enough to wake the neighbors. 

Bitty grinned. “If we ever have to change his food again he’s sleeping on the couch. Oh, and he’s on your side of the bed so you get to wrangle him off.”

“Thanks,” he replied dryly but couldn’t remotely hide his grin. Bitty was half-turned back to the bedroom when Jack pulled him into his arms. 

“Hi,” Bitty said softly as he buried his face in Jack’s chest, his arms sliding under Jack’s sport coat to press against his back. “I missed you. Good job this week. I’m glad you’re home.”

Jack pressed a kiss to Bitty’s adorable and even-worse-than-normal cowlick. “I missed you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> open to any and all constructive criticisms :D
> 
> crossposted from my tumblr @shatteringzimmermann


End file.
